


how the light gets in

by sassbewitchedmyass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I dont really know where this is going, bon appétit, but I had to get the story out, eventually, had a breakdown, hopefully, season 8 fixit, started writing the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassbewitchedmyass/pseuds/sassbewitchedmyass
Summary: What if Cersei had won the battle of Kings Landing?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, my tumblr followers and I were discussing what would have happened if Cersei had won the battle and she and Jaime lived. Great idea! But I’ve never written a multi chapter fic so this might be a mess. I have an idea of where it’s going but I’m honestly just winging the rest.  
> Rating and warnings may change with future chapters.
> 
> “We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.”

Prologue 

He dreamed of her. She was standing on a beach, Tarth he assumed, though he had never been there. The waters were a clear sapphire but they still couldn't hold a candle to her magnificent eyes. 

She was wearing a white dress that billowed around her long legs with the wind rolling off the sea. It had no sleeves and he could see every sun kissed freckle on her wide shoulders. He wanted to step closer just so he could count them, taste them, worship them. Her hair was longer than it was the last time he'd seen her and it had a slight curl to it now; pale blonde and shimmering under the summer sun. 

She turned then and he saw the small curve of her stomach, so tiny he doubted anyone else could truly tell. But somehow, he knew. Their child was resting there. Nourished and loved and cradled safely by her mother's body. She caught sight of him then and Jaime couldn't move if the gods had commanded it themselves. 

She watched him for a moment, a question in those captivating eyes. Whatever she read on his face must have pleased her because she smiled softly and held out her hand to him. He began to walk to her but before he had taken three steps Brienne disappeared and Bran Stark was in her place. The boy walked over to him and smiled that enigmatic smile of his, grabbing Jaime's right hand. His flesh and blood right hand. 

"You know what you fight for now, Ser Jaime. Play your role and all will be forgiven. Play your role and you may live to see your daughter grow." 

Bran wrapped both of his hands fully around Jaime's right hand and gave a sharp tug. Jaime woke.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts from our dear dumbass boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is basically 1,000 words of Jaime pining and kicking himself for being a dumbass. Rightfully so. I’m honestly still not over it but maybe this fic will fix it. Eventually.   
> I listened to Jealous by Labrinth on repeat while writing this...so yeah, that’s where I’m at emotionally. At least Jaime’s here with me.

The Dragon Queen was dead.

As was Jon Snow and half the men Jaime had fought beside in the war for the living. Cersei's Golden Company and the Lannister soldiers had done away with a good portion of the bedraggled Northern army, Unsullied and Dothraki. Qyburn’s scorpion had taken out Drogon and Daenerys fairly early in the battle. Not early enough to save Euron’s fleet, but Jaime couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He couldn’t bring himself to care about much in the month that he’d been back in Kings Landing. His days were a never ending repetition of Qyburn’s ceaseless praise of Cersei’s victories and the Mountain’s eerie silence. His sister hadn’t been happy to see him, he didn’t want her to be honestly. She seemed more smug than angry, thank the gods. She hadn’t had him killed yet at least. But he longed for his home. He longed for Brienne. He longed to see Tyrion, wherever he may be. His body was never recovered but there were so many bodies out there, they could have just missed him. He hoped his brother had gotten away. What the hell he was still doing here, he didn't know. He had come to beg his sister to surrender to save her life, to save their child. The child. That was why he stayed, and because it’s where he’d always been. There was no other way for him. 

He’d deluded himself for a time thinking that he could be a better man. That he could live a better life with Brienne. He had allowed himself to believe for a small moment at least, that they could be happy, that he could be the man to make her happy. That he could be her lover, her husband, the father of her babes. They could live in the godsdamned frozen North or return to Tarth; wherever his lady knight chose to go. Fighting and fucking and raising their passel of children. But with that one scroll from the south he realized it was all just a silly dream of a stupid man. The moment he had let the memory of his sister, and all he had done for her, sink its claws back into him; the rest of his story had been written. The life he had dreamed of was ashes in his mouth, and he could never go back to the sweet bliss of Brienne’s arms. No matter how much he truly wished it. 

It didn’t matter if she might still believe in his goodness and honor. It didn't matter if Bran Stark absolved him, or if Sansa allowed him to stay, or if Arya chose not to slice his throat at the first opportunity. He could never possibly deserve Brienne and she didn’t deserve an oath breaking bastard like him. He may have rode north to fight for the living, to fight for her, but that didn’t wipe away the years of pain and suffering he had wrought, either directly or by his actions. For Cersei. All for Cersei. She's hateful and so am I. Brienne would never forgive him for this. He shuddered. 

Gods, he should have told her he loved her when he’d had the chance. Surely, she knew. He hoped she knew. If he could just hold her one more time maybe she would see, but his tainted hands had no right to touch Brienne. His lying tongue had no right to taste her, his blackened heart had no right to love her. He’d had a dream last night. They were together on Tarth and his daughter was growing in her belly. It was the happiest he had ever been in his life, and when he woke he wept for a happiness that would never be his. One day, another man would belong to her, cherish her. Another man would kiss and caress those milky white thighs and that long elegant neck. Another man would lay his head on her swollen belly and whisper sweet words to their child. Another man would earn her respect and her love. That future would never be Jaime’s.

When the battle for Kings Landing was over and the Lannister’s named victor, Cersei had sent exactly one raven. To Winterfell. She demanded Sansa Stark come to Kings Landing and bend the knee, or Cersei would be throwing Jon Snow’s bones into the bay. Never to return to his family and his rightful place in the crypts of Winterfell. Sansa had agreed and Jaime’s stomach had been in a knot ever since. He had never expected to see Brienne again. He’d honestly thought he would most likely die in the battle. He’d never even considered that Cersei might win. But she had and now he had to face the woman he loved on the opposite side of the battle once more.

Cersei had received word an hour ago that Lady Stark and her entourage had come through the gates. In no time they’d be at the door of the Red Keep and then the throne room. Brienne would be here standing in front of him with those magnificent eyes filled with hurt and accusations. He couldn’t stand in opposition to her anymore. He just couldn’t. They had spent the majority of their relationship on differing sides of warring factions. He was sick of it. But he had chosen this hadn’t he? Chosen to stand by his sister when he could be walking through those gates with Brienne right now. The stupidest Lannister he most certainly was. 

Brienne had haunted his every waking hour from the moment he had ridden away from her. And ever since he had been back in the Red Keep, she was haunting his sleeping hours as well. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. She was laughing in the great hall, eyes bright and warm. He saw her with a grimace on her face lunging into Podrick in the training yard while they were sparring. He saw her laying on top of the furs in their bed, those sapphire eyes half lidded and her pretty little breasts quivering with every panting breath. Most days he missed her with an ache so palpable he had to touch his chest to make sure there wasn’t a giant gaping chasm there.

Jaime hadn’t prayed many times in his adult life, only a few occasions that he could recall. He had prayed for Brienne to be safe on her journey to find Sansa. He’d prayed for Brienne to make it out of Riverrun if it came to taking the castle by force. He’d prayed for her to make it out of Kings Landing without the vengefulness of Cersei touching her at the dragonpit summit. He’d prayed for her to make it through the Battle of Winterfell, with or without him, and he prayed now. Let her have stayed in Winterfell. The likeliness of his loyal stubborn warrior to have done that was laughable, but still he prayed. Fervently. Please, please, please just spare her. If the gods had any justice or compassion at all they’d let her be at home curled up in their furs. 

Just then, a guard walked into the room and announced, “Lady Stark, your Grace.” 

Jaime could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears and beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He prayed again. I’ll never ask for another thing in my wretched life, if you’ll just let her have stayed in the North. He kept his eyes on the floor until the procession of steps had quieted to a stop. When he raised his gaze he immediately locked eyes with Brienne, and what he saw made him take an involuntary step back. Not hurt, not even accusations, not at all. Pure absolute fury shone in her sapphire eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is BIG mad but also BIG sad.  
> Side note: the true Game of Thrones was the friends we made along the way.  
> Another side note: Arya and The Hound never went to KL. He gave her that little heart to heart at Winterfell and they both decided to stay in the north.

Jaime stood by his Queen and Brienne by hers. The siege lines drawn in the throne room of the Red Keep. No matter the victor, she and Jaime would both lose. Brienne looked directly into his despondent eyes with all the pent up fury she had held inside her since he’d left. Even after his sister’s war was won; he still clung to her side. Cersei may very well kill every northerner in this room today. Would Jaime stand there and watch? Would he draw his sword against Brienne? Had they survived hell just to face each other in battle now? Would he take her life? She was certain he would if Cersei commanded it. He’d do most anything if Cersei commanded it. He’d proven that, hadn’t he? Could she take his life? Yes. It didn’t matter if the act would rip her heart to shreds. As if he hadn’t done that already. She would do her duty and protect her queen when the time came. And it would come. Because no matter what Cersei  
threatened, Brienne knew Sansa would not yield and neither would her knight. 

They had mobilized their remaining forces and left Winterfell for the south within hours of receiving Cersei’s raven. On the road to Kings Landing, the remaining northerners that traveled with them had elected Sansa their queen. As those men and women raised their swords with chants of Queen in the North, Brienne didn’t know if she’d ever been so proud for her lady or so heartbroken for her. She knew Sansa would give it all up to have Jon with her, with their family. They’d lost enough already and losing Jon was just another crushing blow to the remaining Starks. 

Lady Sansa had been devastated, Arya even more so if that were possible. Bran had loved his brother, Brienne knew, but he was so far detached from most of those emotions now. So, Brienne and the Hound, along with Pod and Gendry, had silently agreed to watch after the girls. They made sure they ate and rested when they could; when their grief would allow. Brienne would sit with Arya at night and talk for hours on end of her travels and her childhood. She had never been a woman of many words but she knew Arya needed the distraction, and she’d never in their many days on the road, asked Brienne to leave. So, she’d continued to talk long into the night until her throat was aching and Arya had finally slumped over in her chair from exhaustion. Then Gendry would pick her up, with a grateful look to Brienne, and carry his heartbroken warrior to bed. Sandor had been teaching Sansa how to fight on their many stops along the way south. He would rile her up just to get any emotion out of her that wasn’t desolation, and then he would teach her how to channel that anger into wielding her wicked little dagger. During the earlier nights of their trip Brienne had held her lady as she cried for the loss of her brother, and Sandor, Podrick, and Gendry had allowed Arya to beat the bloody mess out of them sparring when her anger became too much. It had seemed like a never ending month on the road but as they approached the gates of Kings Landing, Brienne had more hope for them than when they had left the north. 

They’d all forged a bond on this journey, stronger than even the Battle of Winterfell could have given them. She and Sandor had slowly gone from a grudging respect to a true friendship, connecting over their care of their girls and their hatred of the godsdamned Lannisters. Though, she didn’t hate Jaime. Not really. She never could, she knew that. But she didn’t trust him, could never trust him again. She had laid her honor, her heart, and possibly her very life on the line to stand for him at Winterfell and he had made her into a fool; had broken every silent oath he’d made to her in their time together. She should have expected it eventually. She should have never let him crumble those walls she had held onto so tightly for so many years. With every interaction, every feverish kiss in the darkened corners of the castle, every lingering caress to her thigh under the supper table in the great hall, every soft word of surrender whispered against her skin in the privacy of their bed, he had taken away another brick. Until she was left with nothing but her raw soul, standing alone in the Winterfell courtyard in the dead of night. Only then did she remember that wall had been there for a reason, and she’d do well to never forget that again. 

Cersei hadn’t said a word since they’d reached the throne room. She just sat calmly assessing their little party. The only outward sign of her rage were her hands rhythmically squeezing the arms of the throne. 

Clutch and release. Clutch and release. Again and again. 

Brienne knew she was sizing them up and finding them wanting. They had left the majority of their meager forces, the ones they’d brought with them and the survivors they’d met on the road, outside the gates of Kings Landing. Only bringing thirty or so with them to the Red Keep. Gendry would be their runner from the keep to the gates if they needed to ready for battle, but they would not march their entire army into the lion’s den to be slaughtered for Cersei’s amusement. 

Cersei finally spoke with all the false sincerity she was well known for. 

“The little dove has finally flown home" 

"This was never my home.” Sansa answered quietly.

Cersei reared back as if she’d been slapped. A bit of an exaggerated response, Brienne thought. 

"Did I not clothe you? Shelter you? Feed you?" 

Her voice was growing louder with every question, manic. Within a span of a few breaths she’d abandoned all semblance of composure. The Mad Queen indeed. 

“I tried to teach you the ways of our world, you naive little fool! And what have you done to repay me? Murder my son! Rise up against me and march your army to my gates!" 

She was screaming by the end of her tirade, the last word echoing throughout the room. Then she narrowed her eyes and gave a cruel smile. “You'll bend the knee or lose your head like your traitor father."

Brienne saw Sansa flinch at that. Most likely reliving the trauma of her father’s death. She felt a flush crawling up her neck, burning its way from her chest to her hairline. She was going to run Cersei through. She gripped the lions head pommel of Oathkeeper so tightly her knuckles were white. She wished she could throw the bloody sword at Jaime's feet. Here's your damned honor. Melt it down and attach it to that throne your lover adores so much. She let her gaze drift to him for a moment. He was looking at her with some unidentifiable emotion in his eyes. Brienne couldn't allow herself to care anymore. He had chosen his side and may the gods have mercy on his soul. 

Brienne glanced back to Sansa. She had turned around to look at her people, her back now facing Cersei. She locked eyes with each of their group in turn, not looking away until the recipient of that clear blue gaze nodded in return. When Sansa's eyes finally met Brienne's, she realized what every one else was agreeing to. Cersei had bid her to bend the knee, Sansa would not. 

Will you fight beside me? 

Brienne nodded. 

She watched as Sansa calmly turned around and lifted her gaze to Cersei. They had spoken of this on the road. What it would mean to defy Cersei. Sansa didn’t want to go to war again, but she would if her people were willing. Those hard sons of bitches wanted the fight they knew would be coming. They hadn’t all beaten the army of the dead to kneel to a Lannister. 

Brienne could hear shuffling behind her and then Sandor was there at her left. She saw Jaime's gaze stray from Sansa to them and stay. 

"What's the chances?" Sandor muttered. 

"Many of Cersei's men were killed in battle. Her army is nearly as depleted as ours, but...she does have your brother."

"Aye, she's got my fucking brother."He gritted out. 

"Could you fight him you think?"

"Aye."

"Could you kill him?"

He paused at that. "They say he's an undead beast. More like those fuckers we fought up north than a real man. He took to the streets in battle. Those fucking northmen said they slashed and stabbed and still he stood. The cunt never even screamed." 

Brienne shivered at that. She didn't like to think of the wights. Didn't like to think of the battle at all. Nor anything that came after. She chanced a glance at Jaime, his eyes were still on them. 

"The two of us then" She said firmly. 

"Two of us what?"

"The two of us can take him."

"You're a right dumb bitch, Ren."He hissed, “you think the entire northern army couldn't take him, but we can?"

"We have to try." Brienne whispered, “and don't be ridiculous. It wasn't the entire army."

"Fucking enough of 'em." 

Cersei had her men lining the walls of the room, Brienne had counted forty. They had about twenty good fighters in their group, not such bad odds...if Cersei didn’t have The Mountain. Brienne swallowed hard. “We have to try, Sandor. We have to.”

He gave a long suffering sigh. This back and forth had become commonplace for them since they’d left Winterfell, since they’d become friends on the road. She had become his voice of reason and she knew the man hated it. He’d rage and refuse her at first but he’d always give in in the end. Sandor would draw his sword against a dragon if it meant protecting the Stark girls.

She leaned back a bit to better hear what his reply would be. Jaime’s eyes, which had been focused on them the entire conversation, narrowed to slits. He had no damn right to glare. No damn right to even look her way at all. Sandor grabbed her wrist and gave it a slight squeeze. He was going to agree.

“Aye, we’ll try, Ren. I still owe that fucker a lesson,” he growled. She turned her head to look at him and he softened a bit and nodded toward Sansa, “and you know I’d follow you through the seven hells for those girls.” 

Brienne gave a small nod but didn't say more. He would have her back when the time came. At least she had one man beside her she could count on. She locked gazes with Jaime. His eyes were shining with an unholy fury and it gladdened her a bit. Was he jealous? Good. Did he still care for her? Did he ever? Not that it mattered, she told herself. She didn’t care what he thought anymore. She didn’t. Her gaze was drawn back to the throne as Cersei finally spoke. 

"Kneel." Cersei demanded. 

Sansa took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and calmly replied with all the resilience of a true northerner, “We will not.” She looked to Brienne then and Brienne gave her a grim smile. Sansa nodded and continued, “The North was taken from us and we took it back and we swore we'd never bow to anyone else again.” Sansa took a step forward, her hands balling into fists at her side, and spoke through clenched teeth, “You want the North? You'll have to kill me and every northerner alive to get it.”

Cersei’s green eyes were burning with a wildfire fury; her entire body going rigid. Brienne suspected she’d never expected the timid little dove to come to her with a steel spine, but what Cersei had never realized was that Sansa had never been a little dove. She’d been a wolf from the first, and she led the pack now. 

Cersei finally relaxed her body and raised her chin, laughing lightly in her condescending manner. “Well, the jobs almost done isn't it? I've killed half your northmen already. Following your bastard brother’s bones to Kings Landing might not have been the wisest move, little dove." 

Little did Cersei know, Arya and Tyrion we’re searching the keep for Jon’s remains at this very moment. She wondered if Jaime knew Tyrion had survived the battle. They had found him waiting for them at an inn a little ways outside of Kings Landing. He knew his sister, knew that she’d send for Sansa. So, he’d just bided his time with the remaining survivors until they found him, or he found them, as it were. He was the only one who knew the keep well enough to find Jon’s remains and Arya was the only one stealthy enough to make it through Cersei’s men. They’d quietly pulled away from the northern entourage as soon as they’d made it into the keep. Hopefully they could retrieve what they came here for before the fighting broke out. They would need Arya. 

"The mad bitch needs to die." Sandor grunted at her shoulder. Brienne nodded. How Jaime could love a woman like her, Brienne didn't know. She had seen the kind of man he was, the kind of man she knew he’d always been in his heart. This was not it. This shell of a man standing blindly by while his Queen threatened the very ones he had vowed to fight for, was not her Jaime. The Jaime who promised to fight for the living, the Jaime who had defied all conventions and knighted her, the Jaime who commanded northern armies without a shred of indecision, the Jaime who had wrapped strong arms around her and whispered soft kisses down her spine on the cold northern nights, that Jaime would not be standing on the wrong side now. This man she was looking at, this was Cersei's Jaime. No matter the hollowness in his eyes, or his grief-stricken expression, he hadn’t moved a muscle from his sister’s side. Brienne didn't know if she could ever forgive that. 

"I'm not asking for the Seven Kingdoms, only the North. There needn't be any more bloodshed.” 

Cersei laughed coldly at that. Her beautiful features twisting into a sneer so vile Brienne rather wondered how she’d ever found her so beautiful. Sansa waited for the echoing laughter to die and then spoke resolutely once more, “Make no mistake, we will fight if we must, but I'd rather be able to take my brother’s remains and all my men home. We just want to go home." 

"A Lannister will forevermore rule the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of those kingdoms. Shall I relinquish it because a traitor asks for it? Is that the lesson I want to teach my child? To be weak and yielding." 

Sansa started at that. As did Brienne. Her child?

"What child?" Sansa whispered but it carried across the eerily silent room easily. 

Cersei put her hands to her belly and smiled. "This one."

Brienne froze. Cersei was pregnant. Was it Jaime's child? Of course it was, you idiot . All those nights he'd spent with her in the North-was he just planning to come home to his sister all along? Biding his time until- until he’d what? Fucked Brienne out of his system? 

She was going to be sick. She swayed on her feet for a moment, afraid she would faint, but then Sandor grabbed her arm to steady her. 

They’d had a plan for Cersei. It wasn’t foolproof of course, they weren’t sure who survived the battle and who would be able to fight for her, but they had spent the lengthy time on the journey to Kings Landing carefully planning it the best they could. And it needed to be carefully executed. They had never counted on a babe being involved. Bran had never mentioned it. She couldn’t stomach killing a child. Even if it’s mother was a heartless tyrant. 

"Keep it together,” Sandor whispered, bringing her back to the present. “Our little wolf needs you." 

Brienne swallowed and nodded, blinking back the tears that were burning in her eyes. He never loved you, you stupid fool. Why would he? How could he? You aren't the love of his life. You aren't the mother of his children. The mother of his child. Oh Gods.

She could see Jaime staring at her out of the corner of her eye. Could feel him willing her to look at him. She couldn't. She didn't know if she ever could again. Then another thought hit Brienne. Is he staying for her or is he staying for his child? Both? She was exhausted by all of her wildly varying feelings when it came to Jaime, and she just didn't have it in her to care anymore. She had no more left to give him. If they made it out of this alive, she'd close the door on her time with Jaime Lannister forever. It's the only thing she could do, lest she be mired in these emotions forever. 

The throne room was still silent as a crypt. An unmarried queen claiming an heir that everyone assumed- rightly so- belonged to her brother. She supposed if Cersei murdered all those who opposed her, she could do as she damn well pleased. 

"Ser Jaime?" 

That was Bran Stark's voice. Brienne looked at Jaime then, she had to. His eyes were locked on her. A thousand emotions flitted between them before she deliberately blanked her features, closing off her thoughts to him. He’d always said her eyes gave her away. She couldn’t hide a single thought from him as long as he could see her eyes. Not anymore. He blinked rapidly, as if he was staving off tears, then quickly looked away from her to focus his gaze on Bran. 

"Yes, Lord Stark?"

"Who do you fight for?" Bran asked softly, almost a whisper. 

What an odd question, Brienne thought. Wasn't it obvious? Brienne watched as all the color leeched from Jaime's face. He swallowed hard and looked to his hands, rubbing his golden hand with his left one. 

"I fight for my family.” Jaime murmured. He took a shuddering breath and raised his gaze to meet Bran’s. “I fight for my child.” 

Bran was quiet for an unnervingly long time, blankly staring at Jaime. Finally his lips twitched and he gave that enigmatic smile. 

“Then why are you standing over there?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and rewrote it and then rewrote it again and I’m still not sure it’s exactly how I wanted it but I told myself it’s still gotta be better than that season 8 shitshow🤷🏻♀️ I think this is my longest chapter yet, so buckle up, duderinos. We got a lot of shit happening.

Then why are you standing over there? 

Jaime’s dream came to him then, quite vividly. Brienne in the summer sun on the beaches of Tarth; that sweet swell of their child in her belly. He could feel the ocean breeze and even smell the salt in the air. He felt the muggy heat on his skin and heard the crash of the waves against the shore. Bran Stark’s voice was ringing in his ears.

You know what you fight for now, Ser Jaime.

The room was deadly quiet. All eyes were on him but he only needed to see one pair. When his eyes met hers, he drew in a sharp breath. 

She hadn’t known. 

He could tell. Her eyes were as big as he’d ever seen them. Wide and...frightened? She had obviously grasped Bran’s meaning as he did because ever so slowly her hand drifted to her belly- slender fingers grazing softly over her armor right where their child would rest. If dream Bran was to be believed, their daughter. 

Could it be true? He had always been careful with her...except for that last night. He’d known he was leaving and he had been so damn desperate to brand her into his skin, to brand him into hers. He hadn’t meant to. Or maybe subconsciously he had? Maybe, he had wanted her to possibly have something of him when he was gone; just a little piece of him to stay with her. Gods, he wanted so desperately for Bran to be speaking truth. He knew it made him a selfish fucking bastard but at the moment he felt a small spark of joy alight in his chest. All he wanted to do was run down the steps and throw himself at her feet. He longed to brush kisses across her belly and whisper to their child that, come what may, her father would always protect her and her mother. 

He cleared his throat and let his eyes drift back to Bran. He was sitting in the middle of the northern crowd, hands folded in his lap and that placid half smile on his face. He still had more to tell. He knew something they didn’t. Hells, he knew many things they didn’t, but in this moment that dramatic bastard was holding onto something else important. He was trying to find the words to voice his questions to Bran when Cersei began to laugh. 

“My brother and that-that cow?” She sneered and gestured to Brienne with a arrogant tilt of her chin. Cersei had evidently deciphered Bran’s meaning as well. She had known about his- at least his fondness for Brienne, if not his love. She had to have known; she’d seen them at the dragonpit together. 

“Jaime would never betray me for that creature.”

Cersei laughed again and Jaime felt a boiling fury rising within him. He heard the ring of steel being unsheathed. Was Brienne drawing her sword? His gaze swung to her but both her hands were on her belly now, cradling it as if to protect her child from Cersei’s cruelty. So, who had- Clegane. He stood by her side with a murderous rage in his eyes. He looked ready to cut every Lannister down where they stood. For Brienne? To defend her against Cersei’s taunts? Jaime had watched them talking, watched him touching her. Clegane had no right to touch her. She wasn’t his. She didn’t laugh for him or sigh for him or moan for him. She didn’t look down upon him with those passion drunk eyes as she rode him to oblivion. She didn’t cry out his name to echo against the walls of their chamber. Did she? Of course, he had to remember she wasn’t his anymore either. He didn’t have a right to be jealous of any man who had won her loyalty, her heart, or her love.

No godsdamned right at all, and yet...

Brienne softly laid her fingers upon Clegane’s sword hand and pushed it back down to his side. Jaime watched them stare at each other for a few moments, seemingly having a silent conversation with their eyes. After a tense, wordless exchange, Clegane finally nodded at her and sheathed his sword. The fury at his sister that had been simmering inside him just minutes before had turned into a different emotion altogether at the soft look in Clegane’s eyes. Jaime found himself unconsciously taking a step forward. He could feel Cersei’s eyes following his movement. 

What in the Seven fucking Hells was he doing? If he showed an ounce of affection towards Brienne- an ounce of jealousy- Cersei may believe Bran’s words, that he had created a child with Brienne, and she wouldn’t hesitate to give The Mountain the order to slaughter the lot of them. Jaime had watched him fight from the battlements, no northerner would get out of this room alive. 

Jaime’s gaze drifted back to Bran. The boy was staring at him with those knowing eyes. Bran cut his eyes to Brienne and then looked back to Jaime, raising his right hand out in front of him and clenching it into a fist. Jaime recalled the tug to his right hand on that beach. Was his dream really a dream at all? Or a vision of his future? Bran smiled sadly and dipped his chin in a tiny nod as if he’d read Jaime’s thoughts. She truly was pregnant. 

Oh gods. 

She had walked into the lion’s den with Jaime’s babe in her belly. How in the hells was he supposed to get them out of this. Deny, deny, deny. And then maybe Cersei would be placated long enough to allow Jaime to formulate a plan for their survival. 

Cersei had finally ceased laughing. She sat up straighter on her throne and narrowed her eyes at Bran.   
“Tell me, Lord Stark, why would you ever think that my brother would take up with that freak?” She turned her golden head towards Jaime and smirked. 

“Unless it was purely for the entertainment of it all. I suppose you could be forgiven for that, dear brother. I remember the North being dreadfully dull.”

Jaime felt a flush creeping up his neck. Not from embarrassment, never. He would never be embarrassed of Brienne or his time with her. Anger at his sister had come roaring back like an inferno, brighter and stronger than ever. It was a violent red haze descending over him, heating every drop of blood in his body. He had a wild thought that if she didn’t shut her vile mouth, he was likely to run her through before Clegane ever had the chance. But he needed to stay calm. If he could keep his head he might be able to save them. He couldn’t be Cersei’s dutiful brother though, he needed to be her charming lover if he was going to convince her, much as it pained him. 

Play your role and you may live to see your daughter grow. That’s what dream Bran had told him. If this was the role he was destined to play, to save Brienne and their child, he would give the performance of his life. 

Jaime swallowed hard and searched out Brienne’s eyes. He needed to see them, needed to at least try to communicate his coming deception. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She had hidden her emotions from him once more. It didn’t matter though, because he wasn’t hiding his and he just needed her to understand that he was doing this for her. Jaime tried to convey with his eyes every bit of anguish this would cause him. He needed her to know that it was all for her. From now on, it would always be all for her. 

He turned to his sister with his most lascivious grin and said, “You’re right of course. It was awfully boring, sweet sister. I had to have some amusement to occupy my time.”  
Cersei’s laughter rolled across the room and a hush fell over the northerners. He kept his gaze glued to Cersei. He couldn’t look to Brienne. If he saw even a whisper of hurt in her eyes, this whole facade would crumble to pieces. He prayed with all his might that she understood what he was doing. ‘Please forgive me’ ran in a loop over and over again in his mind. 

He heard Sansa Stark let out a frustrated growl like the she wolf she was. She obviously hadn’t picked up on the charade, or if she did, she was letting her love for Brienne overrule her good judgement. How could she doubt him? She, who had seen firsthand, how very untrue Jaime’s statement to Cersei had been. 

She huffed out a breath clearly waiting for Jaime to look at her but he needed to stay focused on Cersei, needed to read her reaction to whatever came next. Jaime caught Qyburn gliding across the room to Cersei out of the corner of his eye. When he reached Cersei’s side he gave a subtle nod to the Starks. How strange. 

“Did you know that he came North to fight because of Brienne. For Brienne.” Sansa gritted out. 

Jaime started at her statement. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to say but it wasn’t that. He’d thought she’d call him a bastard or at least a liar, but he’d not believed she would tell Cersei anything specific. How the hell had she even known? Had he been so damned transparent? He hadn’t even told Brienne his true reasons. Not in so many words, anyhow. 

Cersei clenched her jaw and her body went ramrod straight. The throne room was silent as a crypt. This was a disaster waiting to happen and if these northerners had a shred of self preservation they would realize that. Sansa Stark had seen The Mountain fight before and still she defended her knight in the face of a most certain death. Stronger and more resolute than he’d ever been, she was carrying out the duty that Jaime should have been performing from the first. Protecting Brienne. 

“The dumb bastard followed her around like a pup.” Clegane grunted. 

Cersei brought her hands to her lap, lacing her fingers together. She was clutching them so tightly Jaime could see her fingernails biting into the back of her hand.

“Did you know he knighted her?” Jaime looked towards the group then. That was Robert’s bastard speaking from the back. He slowly picked his way through the northerners to stand at Brienne’s side. Jaime watched as Brienne clutched the boy’s arm and shook her head. She didn’t want anyone speaking up for her. She knew the danger they were all in. Jaime had no idea if they had come to this meeting with a plan, but with that one statement from Bran Stark he was sure all their plans had been blown to hell. And they were only making it worse with their declarations of Jaime’s loyalty to Brienne. 

“Did you know he fought beside her for the entire Battle of Winterfell?”That was Podrick’s voice, hoarse with a restrained rage Jaime had never heard from him. He craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the boy. Podrick stepped out from behind Brienne and circled around in front of her. Always the protective squire, the protective son. Though Brienne would deny it, that was exactly how she saw Podrick.   
“He wouldn’t let her out of his sight.” He gave Jaime such a look of utter betrayal then that he took a step back, as if he were absorbing a blow. Podrick was furious with him, as he should be, he reminded himself. 

Jaime’s gaze was drawn behind Podrick, to Brienne, when he heard her make a small distressed noise in the back of her throat. Her cheeks were pale and she was biting her bottom lip worriedly. She looked down nervously to Podrick and then darted her eyes up to The Mountain. Jaime saw her hand rise towards her belly before she swiftly jerked it back to her side. After the initial shock of it all, she was being smart to not try to draw anymore of Cersei’s ire. She grabbed Podrick’s shoulder and tried to pull the boy behind her, but he dug in his heels and wouldn’t budge. 

Even if she was with child she would never stop trying to protect those she considered hers, those she loved, not for a single second. Was he still hers? Would Brienne still claim him? He couldn’t fathom that ever being a possibility again. He’d left her; left her to rush back to a woman who’d sent an assassin to kill him. What a complete fucking idiot he’d been. Impulsive to the end like Cersei’s perfect golden fool. Though he’d claimed to himself that he had good reasons, Jaime realized that the reasons didn’t really matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the fact that he remained on this side of the room while every man but himself was quite literally putting their lives on the line for the woman that he loved. 

He couldn’t worry about Cersei’s wrath anymore or The Mountain’s inhuman strength or the threat of the Lannister soldiers surrounding the room. Brienne was standing there encircled by people who loved her, people willing to champion her, but still he could feel the loneliness radiating from her all the way to him. The lone warrior on the front lines, carrying his child and believing with every breath in her body that he didn’t care for her. Gods have mercy on them, but Jaime couldn’t pretend anymore. If the stranger were to take him this day, he refused to go without Brienne knowing his heart. 

“Did you know-“ Jaime’s voice sounded rusty, his throat raw. As if he’d been holding these words back for the entirety of his life. As if his body still wanted him to keep them tightly locked inside his chest, but he had to say them now. For Brienne and for himself. 

He met Brienne’s clear sapphire gaze and held it. He took a step forward, never breaking that contact and spoke louder, “Did you know...that I love her.”

Brienne’s eyes immediately filled with tears and she looked away from him to...Gendry?   
The boy grasped her arm and squeezed. She gave him a slight nod and he slowly started walking backwards. The northmen silently parting for him as he kept his eyes trained on Cersei. Jaime watched as he turned around and ran for the door as soon as he’d reached the outskirts of the crowd. No Lannister man pursued him. 

Brienne’s eyes were glued on the boy until he reached the doors. When she turned back to face Jaime she no longer had tears in her eyes. Now, they shone with an unholy fury, her lips drawn tight in displeasure and a muscle was jerking in her cheek. Sansa had turned around at the sound of Gendry running off, also watching the boy until he’d reached the door. Jaime couldn’t see her expression, but he saw her redhead bob once and then again in a firm nod to Brienne. Her eyes darted to Qyburn and then back to Brienne when Brienne reached out her hand and clasped Sansa’s, pulling her to her side. The young girl traded a solemn glance with Brienne and then turned back to Cersei, straightening her shoulders and burying her hands into the pockets of her skirts. Were they- Clegane shifted closer to Brienne and nudged her to the side a bit so he was standing a handswidth in front of her, nearly side by side with Podrick- yes they were. They were preparing for battle.

Jaime knew that he’d laid the final nail in the coffin of Cersei pretending any semblance of sanity, but he couldn’t apologize for it. He wouldn’t apologize for it. As much as he’d chastised himself before they entered the keep, before they entered the throne room, he couldn’t sit idly by and allow Cersei to threaten Brienne or belittle her. He couldn’t allow her to make light of the most profound love he’d ever known. 

For all his mistakes, of which there were many, loving Brienne had never, would never, be one of them. And she deserved to know. The whole godsdamned realm should know. The incomparable Lion of Lannister had been brought to his knees by the warrior maiden of Tarth. The oath breaking Kingslayer had once been loved, honestly loved, by the only true knight remaining in the realm and he loved her in return.

It was then that Jaime noticed he hadn’t seen Arya Stark. If they were to do battle, the Night King Slayer herself should be here shouldn’t she? Unless she had come with Jon to Kings Landing. Another tragedy to be laid at Jaime’s feet. 

The rest of the northerners were trying to inconspicuously shift into position for a fight while Jaime had been lost in his thoughts. Still, Cersei hadn’t said a word. It wasn’t like her to remain silent for so long. Jaime turned his head to his sister then. Her face was an ugly mottled red, not the delicate flush of the Light of the West, but a violent rage brewing just below the surface. Her eyes were narrowed to slits as her gaze rested on Brienne, and her fingers were white with the force of her grip upon the arms of the throne. 

“Cersei,” Bran Stark said quietly.

Cersei’s head jerked toward him with such force she nearly rose off her seat. When she met his eyes, Bran folded his hands in his lap and gave her a pitying look. Oh, gods. She would rip him to shreds with her bare hands for that. Cersei Lannister was not to be pitied. Not by anyone but most assuredly not by a Stark.

“The younger, more beautiful queen was never a queen at all.” 

Cersei sucked in a sharp breath and Jaime chanced a glance to Brienne. She was focused solely on Cersei. Though her face seemed relaxed, Jaime could tell every muscle in her body was taut; poised to spring into battle at the slightest provocation. 

Bran Stark had Cersei’s full attention now. The entire room seemed to wait with baited breath as he spoke again in that unnatural monotone. 

“She’ll cast you down and take all you hold dear.”

Jaime watched as all the color drained out of Cersei’s face until it was ghostly pale. She shuddered violently and covered her lips with her hand as if to hold back the words rushing forth, fighting to be said.

“How- how do you know that?” Cersei whispered raggedly. Her voice sounded unsure now, small. Bran stared at her curiously for a moment, but when he next spoke it wasn’t an answer to Cersei’s question. His eyes bore into hers as he repeated, “She will take all you hold dear.” Bran’s eyes flicked to Brienne and back to Cersei. With a slight tilt of his head, he consigned them all into the crushing hands of The Mountain, as he murmured, “She already has.”

Cersei opened her mouth as if to argue but she couldn’t seem to find the words. She must have seen the truth in Bran’s eyes. Jaime knew she’d never considered anyone ever rising above her in his heart, but Brienne had completely, and Cersei knew it. In what little shriveled excuse for a heart she still had, she knew it. Bran let his eerily calm gaze come to rest on Jaime. 

“Your sister isn’t pregnant, Ser Jaime. She never was. She lied to you to control you and once again you came rushing to her side. Have you finally learned? 

And there it was. Bran’s final piece of the puzzle. There was no babe. Somewhere deep down Jaime had wondered. He hadn’t questioned her about it since he had come back to Kings Landing, but he also hadn’t shared her bed to see the evidence of their child growing himself. Although he’d questioned it, he’d hoped after the deaths of their children that this wasn’t something Cersei would be willing to lie about. But he had learned- slowly, to his disadvantage- that Cersei would say whatever she needed to serve her purposes. But that wasn’t right, was it? He hadn’t slowly learned, he’d known. Hadn’t Tyrion accused him of knowing exactly what she was? All their lives Jaime had desperately tried to believe that she would love him and be honest with him, regardless if he carried out her every order or not, but he had known. He had always known. Jaime looked up from his thoughts to realize that once again the entire room had their eyes trained on him. 

“You have a choice, Ser Jaime. You’ve always had a choice. Just because something has always been, doesn’t mean it has to always be. So, I’ll ask you again, who do you fight for?” 

Jaime locked eyes with Brienne. She was no longer holding back her emotions from him. She had walked into this room full of disdain for him, for what he’d done to her; eyes burning with fury, but those magnificent sapphire eyes were begging him now. Brienne knew if Jaime’s answer wasn’t to Cersei’s liking it could be the end of him. She was begging him not to claim her. Not to claim their child, not even to fight for them, but to do what he had to do to survive this. He had seen that same look before, the night he’d left her, when she was certain he’d die in Kings Landing. Her eyes had been tear filled and pleading for him to stay at Winterfell. To live. Even now with his babe in her belly and his sister already on the verge of complete utter madness, Brienne still begged him to deny her. So that he may live. He had never deserved her, he knew that, but it was about time that he started trying. 

He took a step down from the dais and looked to Podrick. Podrick nodded and let his hand fall to the pommel of his sword. Jaime took a deep breath and declared, 

“I fight for my family.” 

Jaime looked at Brienne earnestly and took another step down,.

“I fight for my child.”

She gave him an anguished look, tears spilling over and sliding down her cheeks. Slowly closing her eyes and taking a shuddering breath, she reached for her sword. 

Jaime’s gaze whipped back to Cersei when she let out a furious scream. She cut her eyes to The Mountain and nodded. 

“Podrick!” Jaime shouted never taking his eyes off The Mountain. The beast had turned towards him, ready to rain down destruction. 

“Ser?”

He searched out Podrick then. The boy had already drawn his sword. Jaime gave him a fierce look and injected every ounce of command into his voice that years on the battlefield had afforded him. 

“Protect your lady!”

Podrick clenched his jaw, nodded and fell back into a fighting stance. 

The Mountain took a ground rattling stomp towards him. 

Jaime drew his sword.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lotta feelings and a whole lotta fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve read this chapter over and over until my eyes are basically crossed so, if there are any errors or problem with continuity, my bad. I’ve never written a fight scene before so be gentle on me. There’s not anything too gory in here but it is a battle so there will be a little grossness. Hope you enjoy it!

She watched as Jaime drew his sword and her heart contracted painfully in her chest. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t survive that pain again. She pushed through Podrick and Sandor, amidst their protests, and raced up the steps to his side. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He gritted out, never taking his eyes off the monster making its way towards them.

“We fight together remember?”

He shoved his golden hand into her chest and tried to push her behind him. 

“No. Not this time.” 

“You think just because I-“

“Yes, Brienne, yes! Because you’re carrying our child!”

He put his forearm across her chest and pushed with all his might making her stumble back a few steps. She let out a grunt and he looked at her then, his eyes glistening with tears. 

“And because I don’t want you hurt, and because I’ve seen this monster fight and-“

“So you’re just going to do what you’ve always done? Sacrifice yourself over and over again and for what?” She growled, positioning herself until she was side by side with him once more. 

“For the woman I love.”

“That’s not how it works.” 

“Of course, that’s how it works!”

“No.”

If they weren’t about to face off against a creature, the likes of which she’d never fought before if Clegane was to believed, she’d rip off Jaime’s golden hand and beat him over the head with it. She had to make him understand that she wasn’t a woman like Cersei. She never would be. He should know that by now. 

“I fight for you and you fight for me and we both fight for our child. That’s how it works.” 

He blew out a frustrated breath and shook his head. She gripped his chin and jerked his face towards her, all the while trying to keep sight of The Mountain out of the corner of her eye. 

“You don’t get to sacrifice yourself at the alter of some supposed great love anymore!”

The entire room seemed to come to a stand still at her declaration. When just seconds ago it was filled with the cacophony of warriors readying for battle and The Mountain’s earth shattering footsteps, it was eerily silent now. She slowly turned her head towards Cersei and saw the woman had her hand raised to halt The Mountain’s progress. Her face was an alarming shade of red and she was giving Brienne the most vicious glare ever to be leveled at her. 

Brienne took a calming breath and let her gaze drift back to Jaime. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. He hadn’t even seemed to be breathing. He was waiting. His eyes pleading with her to give him a reason to not fight this battle alone. He could rant and rave but she knew him, deep down to his soul, she knew him. He was tired of fighting battles alone. He’d fought all his battles alone. If this was to be her last day in this world, she needed him to understand how much she truly had loved him- loved him still- and while there was breath in her body, she would never allow him to fight alone. Regardless of what had happened to them, regardless of how he had hurt her. She needed him to know that the seeds had been planted years ago, before she’d even realized it, and this love was a mighty vine intertwining with every vein in her body. It would never cease growing. Not with torrential downpour or blazing suns or endless winters and all consuming cold. It would thrive and it would multiply and it would live on through their child. They would not die this day. She would make sure of it, she decided. But she needed him to understand, and she wanted Cersei to know, that what remained of Jaime’s tattered soul would not be sacrificed for the whims of an undeserving woman anymore. 

“I don’t want to be the great love you die for. I never have. I want to be the love you choose to live for. You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me. You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for anyone. Not anymore.” 

Brienne watched as he swallowed hard and a lone tear tracked its way down his cheek. 

“I love you,” she whispered softly, “and I need you to live. Do you understand that, Jaime? If I have to-“

“How very touching.” Cersei interrupted. 

Brienne glanced over at Cersei in time to see Qyburn grab his chin and rip his own face off to reveal Arya. Brienne was horrified, rightly so. Arya had told her about this, of course, but she’d never actually seen it in practice. Jaime made a startled grunt in the back of his throat and threw his arm across her chest once more. As if she needed protection from Arya. 

Cersei hadn’t realized what was happening only a few feet behind her even though every face around her had to be frozen in terror at what they’d just witnessed. She was apparently too focused on her fury to read a room. As Cersei continued to rage against...whatever the hells she was going on about, Arya crept ever closer. Jaime flexed his arm, forcing Brienne a couple more steps back, and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Will she kill her?”

Brienne tore her gaze away from Arya to look at him. Although his features were mostly blank there was an undercurrent of pain laced in his eyes. It would hurt him. Of course it would. She knew he could tell himself a million times over that he didn’t care, but he always would. She was his sister, his former lover, the mother of his children. He locked eyes with her and held her stare. His agony permeated the space between them. He blinked quickly once, twice, and then...acceptance. He knew it had to be done and he would live with it. She nodded wordlessly. 

“Call off your beast and I might let you live.”

Arya had reached Cersei. They both snapped their heads in the direction of the throne to see Arya holding her wicked little dagger to Cersei’s throat. So closely it had cut into her skin and a trickle of blood was running down her regal neck. It was the same dagger she’d ended the Night King with. The same dagger that had begun this conflict between the Starks and the Lannisters. It would be the dagger to end it. 

“Call him off.”

Arya’s voice was deadly and undaunted. Hers was not an empty threat and Cersei would do well to recognize it, maybe she remained rational enough to do just that. 

“You think I’d let a Stark order me about like some common housemaid.” Cersei replied ferociously. 

Evidently not. Arya pushed the dagger closer to her skin and another trickle of blood flowed. 

“If I die, he won’t stop until he’s killed every last one of you.”

Jaime’s arm tensed across Brienne’s chest. She could feel it trembling against her armor with the force of his anxiety. Cersei would die either way. Whether she took her brother with her seemed not to matter one jot to her. Jaime would live, Brienne would make sure of it, just to spite the evil bitch. Let her languish in the Seven Hells for all eternity waiting for a brother who would never meet her there. 

“KILL THEM!” Cersei shrieked. 

Arya slit her throat wide open from ear to ear with such force that the blood spattered across Jaime and Brienne’s armored chests. 

The entire room was frozen for a split second before all hell broke lose. The Lannister soldiers rushed to meet the northerners as the ring of steel on steel echoed off the walls. Even without a Queen, they’d chosen to fight on the side of The Mountain. Probably a smart move considering the high probability of him winning this fight, Brienne thought. The Mountain made not a sound at his Queen’s death, but where he’d been lumbering along before, now he was sprinting towards them as fast as his big body would allow. 

Jaime’s arm had dropped from her chest to hang limply at his side. He was silent as a crypt and staring sightlessly ahead. Shock. Brienne grasped his arm and shook him roughly. 

“Jaime.”

He didn’t respond.

“Jaime, raise your sword!”

Nothing.

Oh gods. They were going to die right here along with his sister. She jerked him behind her and fell into a fighting stance just as The Mountain’s sword came down with a brutal force, connecting with Brienne’s in a bone jarring clang. Mother have mercy he truly was a monster. With monster strength. She spun backwards to dance away from his next swing. Could she drain his stamina? If Sandor spoke true and he was like a wight, she could fight him for hours upon hours and he would never tire. He caught her on the shoulder with a glancing blow and she nearly lost her footing. 

“Jaime!”

He hadn’t moved from the spot she’d put him. Hadn’t seemed to even blink. Just then, Arya leapt onto the monster’s back and buried her dagger between his armor and into his neck. He reached behind him and grabbed her by the neck flipping her over his shoulder and throwing her against the wall like a rag doll. She slid down the wall to slump to the floor. 

“NO!” Brienne roared with every ounce of rage that had been pent up inside her for years. She wouldn’t lose anyone else. She forbid it. 

She raced to The Mountain determined to strike his head from his body, wailing a battle cry and raising her sword and-

Jaime was there beside her. 

He was nudging her out of the way with his elbow. “I’ll distract him and you circle around and take the bastard’s head.”

“Why don’t I distract-“

“For godssakes you bloody stubborn woman! Just do it!”

She jerked her chin in a sharp nod of agreement and side stepped another vicious swing. That one would have rent her in two, she was sure of it. Circling behind the big behemoth, she realized she couldn’t see Jaime anymore. She could only hear his grunts as he fended off the bone rattling blows. Her heart pounded harder against her ribs, her hands going slick on Oathkeeper’s hilt. Jaime didn’t have much time. They didn’t have much time. This wasn’t a pile of skin and bones they were battling. This was a massive creature with terrifyingly unnatural strength. She positioned herself directly behind him, closing her eyes and praying to swing true. She lifted her eyes to focus on his neck and swung with all her might at that slight opening between his helm and his shoulder. 

Oathkeeper embedded into the side of his neck and went no further. The bastard wasn’t even bleeding, but gods have mercy he was furious now. He jerked his massive arm back and caught her in the cheek with his elbow, splitting it open. Brienne saw stars and stumbled to her knees. Blood from her busted cheek splattering over the floor beneath her.   
Before she could even catch her breath, she felt a strong hand grip her elbow and jerk her to her feet. 

“No time for fucking rest, Ren. We need you.”

Sandor righted her and pulled her out of the way just in time to miss another elbow to the head. Once the world stopped spinning, she scanned the area frantically for Jaime. He was still there parrying The Mountain’s erratic but powerful swings like he was born to it. And Podrick was there beside him, ducking and dodging and thrusting into every opening he could see. If Sandor and Podrick were up here with her-

“Sansa? Bran-“

“Gendry’s here.” 

Brienne closed her eyes in relief for a moment. Thank the gods. She wasn’t sure he could do it in time. She’d been afraid the rest of their army would finally reach them to walk into a room full of northern corpses and Lannister blades at the ready to slit their throats. 

Sandor gripped her neck and pulled her face close to his. He tilted his head to Podrick and Jaime. “I’ll keep an eye on your dumb bastards,” and then he flicked his eyes to Oathkeeper still lodged in The Mountain’s neck. “You end it, Ren. End him.” 

She nodded and he let her go with a shove forward. Circling around to his back once more she bent her knees and leapt as high as she could grabbing Oathkeeper’s hilt and wrenching the sword from his neck. No blood at all. Just a black ooze congealing on her blade. He never stopped his assault on Jaime and Pod. Never even seemed to notice her. She stepped swiftly to the side missing another errant elbow and saw that Sandor and a Stark man named Andrew had joined in the fight. Five to one and still he stood. Brienne swung twice more at the bastard’s neck and twice more the blade embedded but never sliced clean through. She had to be halfway through his thick neck by now and he was fighting just as fiercely, if not more so. She was readying to take another swing when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a body flying. It slammed to the floor and remained motionless, blood pouring from it’s head. 

She felt a burning pressure squeezing her lungs and somewhere in the distance she heard someone screaming. Two strong arms wrapped around her and brought her back against an armor laden chest. Sandor? No. She could see him still battling his brother.

“Love, it’s alright. It’s alright. He’s going to be fine.” Jaime whispered fervently against her neck. 

“Brienne, you have to stop. You’ll draw his attention. Brienne, please! Somebody, for the love of the gods find Tarly! Did you bring Tarly, Brienne? GENDRY GET TARLY! Brienne, you have to stop screaming!”

She was screaming? As if emerging from the bottom of the ocean into the bright light of day, all her senses came rushing back to her at once. Her ears were ringing, her throat already raw, and every single muscle in her body pulled tight from the force of her screams. 

“Let me go!”

“I can’t.”

“Let me go, Jaime!”

“I can’t! He’ll be alright on the floor until Tarly gets here. You’re going to run off half cocked and-“

She jerked her fist backwards and connected with his nose is a bone crushing blow. He freed her and she ran. Dropping to her knees and sliding underneath The Mountain’s arching arm; she tucked her arms and head into her chest and rolled until she came to a stop beside Podrick. She grasped his upper arm and slid him to her, staying low to the ground to hopefully avoid The Mountain’s notice. She cupped his face in both her big, calloused hands and the tears came. 

His eyes were wide and frightened when he put his put his palm to her cheek and whispered “Mum?”

Oh gods. Her boy. She had taught him and took care of him and- and loved him. With every bit of heart she had, she loved him. She couldn’t lose him now. That useless squire Jaime had saddled her with had become the son she had never hoped to have. 

“I’m here. I won’t leave you, Pod, not for a second.” She promised, carefully pushing his blood matted hair off to the side. He had a long gash across his forehead. It didn’t look too severe but head wounds bled so damn much. But Jaime said he would be alright. He had to be alright. She glanced up searching for Sam and saw him making his way through the fray towards them with Gendry out front, cutting a path through Lannister men with his warhammer. 

Brienne heard the whistle of a sword slashing through the air a second before her head slammed into Podrick’s breast plate. Somehow, her muddled mind realized Jaime had thrown himself on top of her; covering her and Pod’s bodies with his own as The Mountain swung at them. Before the sword could make contact though, Sandor was there to block the blow and then force the bastard back with a swift blow to his head. 

“I brought Tarly.” That was Gendry. He went to his knees beside them and jerked Sam down with him. Automatically, Jaime wrapped his arms around her and rolled to the side, taking Brienne with him. He was laying on top of her body, hip to hip, chest to chest, lips to lips. He wasn’t kissing her but dear gods she wanted that more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. What the hells was wrong with her? 

“Tarly, is he alright?” Jaime growled against her lips. 

“Yes, Ser! He’ll be fine! Not a fatal blow, just a lot of blood.”

Brienne let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the floor. 

“Love,” Jaime whispered against her cheek.

In her relief she’d almost forgotten he was on top of her. Almost, but not quite. His body so familiar to her but so foreign now too it seemed. He pulled back and brushed her sweat soaked hair out of her eyes. 

“Clegane, can’t hold him off forever.”

“I can’t seem to get a clean cut through him, Jaime. I don’t know what the monster is made of but if Valyrian steel-“

“Together.”

“What?”

“We swing together.”

“From each side?”

“Yes.”

Surprising her, he grabbed her by the nape of her neck and took her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and their teeth clashed together as he took the kiss deeper, pulling her harder against him with a bruising force. But as soon as it had began it was over, and Jaime was sliding off of her to scramble to his knees. 

“I know it’s not the time.”

“It really isn’t.”

“But I love you,” he said earnestly. He ran his hand reverently over her armor to rest where their child was, “and I love her.” 

“I love you too, but Jaime-“

“Not now. It’s not the time, remember?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, hoisting himself to his feet and offering his golden hand to pull her up. 

“Lannister!” Gendry shouted. He and Sam had grabbed Pod underneath the arms and were dragging him to the corner of the room. 

Jaime and Brienne both turned to him as he straightened and unsheathed a sword at his waist. 

Widow’s Wail. 

“Your brother says hello,” he muttered and tossed the sword to Jaime. In the most graceful of movements, Jaime dropped his sword seconds before plucking Widow’s Wail out of the air. He brushed his golden hand across the blade and looked to Brienne with a peculiar softness in his eyes. 

“Together.” 

They slowly backed away from their previous position, keeping their eyes on the battle before them, until they had circled around behind The Mountain once more. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they waited until he was in a downward swing and then raised their swords with the flawless motion of a synchronized dance. Brienne swung Oathkeeper with all her might in a perfect mirrored arc with Widow’s Wail. 

Their swords kissed in the middle of The Mountain’s neck with a deafening clang. The momentous force knocking them both onto their backs and shattering every window in the room. Ice reunited at last. Blade to blade. 

They shakily pushed to their feet and rushed to grab their swords, jerking them back and watching as The Mountain’s head toppled to the floor. For a brief terror filled moment, Brienne watched as his body still stood. Jaime lifted his leg and landed a kick to the middle of his back. The body crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. The monster was dead. Finally. 

Brienne stumbled back, chest heaving and fell to her knees. She scanned her eyes across the room frantically searching for her family. Pod was still lying in the corner with a bandaged head, but he was awake and breathing. Sandor was standing over him, leaning against the wall with his eyes fixed on his brother’s body. Gendry was slumped against the side of the throne with a conscious Arya cradled in his lap, and Sansa with the help of a Stark man, was lifting Bran back into his chair. He must have been knocked over in the midst of the fighting, or with the force of his father’s sword joining.

Jaime sank down to the floor beside her and softly cupped her cheek, turning her face towards him. He tilted her face to one side and then the other, studying it with worried eyes. 

“Your cheek’s bleeding.” He murmured. 

“Your lip is bleeding.”

“You saw that, did you? That’s courtesy of you My Lady, not The Mountain-“

“I tasted it.”

“What?”

“I didn’t have to see it. I tasted it. When you kissed me.”

“Ahhh...”

She clasped his wrist and pulled it from her face. She didn’t want to see him hurt, truly she didn’t, but the battle was over and she just couldn’t stand him touching her at the moment. As the adrenaline left her body, all of those feelings she’d had to push aside to focus on keeping them both alive came rushing to the surface. Her heart clenched and she looked away from him as tears filled her eyes. 

“Brienne?”He whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear him. 

“I need to check on Podrick.”

“You need to sit and rest. You were just in a fight with The Mountain! Or have you forgotten-“

“I haven’t forgotten anything, Jaime.” She looked at him then. She knew he would see it all. She didn’t have the strength to hold back her emotions from him. The full force of her fear and pain would slap him in the face when he looked into her eyes. Jaime’s eyes widened in panic and he gripped her arm trying to keep her beside him.

“We need to talk-“

“Not now.”

“Then when?” He growled in frustration. 

“When I’m good and ready and not a moment before.”

“I thought you loved-“

“I do love you!”

Her shoulders slumped and she swiped a hand unwittingly across her bloodied cheek. She was so damned exhausted. His eyes still held a trace of panic but he wisely kept his mouth shut. She cupped his chin and softly kissed his cheek, whispering into that bristly stubble she loved so much. 

“I do love you but that doesn’t change the fact that you left,” she pulled back to look into his agonized eyes, making sure he understood this part clearly, “and neither does this child.” 

His brow furrowed and his lips trembled but he didn’t speak. Good man. He was catching on. She brought his face closer to hers once again, brushing a kiss across his temple before whispering into his ear. 

“We will talk when I’m ready and only then. You’re not the commander here, Jaime. You don’t give the orders anymore.” 

She let go of his face and readied herself to stand but before she’d fully stood, Jaime was clutching her wrist to pull her back. She looked down on him and her breath caught in her chest. His eyes were shining with tears waiting to spill over. He looked so lost, but it was more than that. Terrified, he looked terrified. What happened when a woman walked away from him? When his sister walked away from him? Manipulation and deceit and anger. She sifted her fingers through his hair to calm him like she used to do on those cold northern nights when he’d wake himself thrashing about from a nightmare. He slowly let his eyes fall closed and leaned his cheek against her leg. 

She continued running her fingers through his hair and spoke soothingly, “I’m not your sister, Jaime. I’ll never be her. I’ll never keep your child from you. Nor will I ever keep my feelings from you.” 

She lightly tugged on his hair to tilt his head back and look into his eyes. Those eyes she’d woken up to every morning; those eyes she loved so dearly. 

She ran her fingertips lightly across his cheek and whispered sadly, “I do love you.”

He nodded slowly and wrapped his arms around her leg, hugging it tightly to his body. 

“Trust me, Jaime?”

He ducked his head and squeezed her leg tighter to him before finally releasing it. She held her hand out for him and pulled him to his feet. They didn’t say another word as they made their way to Podrick. 

Cersei was dead and the Starks lived on. Pod lived. Jaime lived. She lived. Their child lived. 

What in the Seven Hells was she supposed to do next?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re coming full circle. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard to write for me. I just feel so bad for my boy but also kinda want to punch him. I hope you guys enjoy it! 
> 
> Also:
> 
> 1\. For this story the Lannister kids are gonna be buried in KL. I have no idea where they are in canon. The sept? The keep? Casterly? Idk. But for the purposes of this fic, let’s say they’re at the keep.  
> 2\. Thanks to my girl, sameboots, for educating me on how my mans Jaime Lannister would put in work on them nipples. Also, for researching average Danish dick sizes.   
> 3\. That being said, Jaime Lannister’s dick will not be making an appearance in this chapter. We were just curious.

It had been three days. 

Brienne still hadn’t come to him. He would have already tried to go to her if he wasn’t chained to a Stark camp tent post. Again. 

Nearly as soon as the battle had ended, the northerners were calling for his head. Bloody ungrateful bastards. Brienne had once again stood between him and certain death, as she’d done countless times before. As she had done when the Mountain had been bearing down on them and Jaime hadn’t been able to move a muscle. Frozen in place with the warm stickiness of his sisters blood coating his armor, his neck, his hand. 

He’d loved Cersei. He couldn’t lie to himself about that. He would always love her, she was his sister. But he’d known- deep down he’d known- the moment Bran Stark had revealed Brienne’s pregnancy, Cersei would have never let her leave that room alive. Jaime could try with all his might to cajole and charm, but he’d known he had a choice to make. He’d chosen Brienne, as he should have from the first, and when the battle was over she’d chosen him too.

She’d somehow convinced Sansa to hold him prisoner until they could decide his fate. Jaime had no idea how that argument had worked. It wasn’t as if they could hold him for ransom or leverage. There weren’t any Lannister’s left to bargain with, except for Tyrion, but he’d remained friend to the North.

No one seemed to know that Tyrion had freed him once before. Jaime couldn’t blame him if he refused to negotiate for his life now, lest his treason possibly be revealed and the tentative friendship destroyed. 

So here he sat. With the weight of enough worry coiled inside him to sink the entire Greyjoy fleet. He couldn’t blame Brienne if she never wanted to see him again after what he’d done, but he was holding on to the barest sliver of hope that she would come. She had to come. He shifted in his chains. His muscles aching with the near unbearable tension that suffused his body every waking hour. He couldn’t lose her. Not again. She would come. It was the mantra he repeated to himself over and over again as darkness crept across his tent every night. 

She would come.   
She would come.   
She would come. 

She still loved him. She’d told him so. She would come. 

The first day of his imprisonment, a guard had eagerly informed him that the northerners wanted to carry Cersei’s head back to Winterfell. Parade it around the north and crow about how far the Lannister’s had fallen. He’d heard from another guard that Sansa and Arya had wanted to toss her body into the bay like Cersei had threatened to do with their brother. Ser Brienne would have none of it. 

She would come. 

Apparently, they were holding meetings in the Queen’s tent day and night. Jaime, of course, wasn’t invited to those conversations but he’d heard them all the same. The entire camp most likely heard them. Brienne argued vehemently for a proper burial for a woman who’d wanted her dead, who’d never even shown her the smallest of courtesies. She did it for him, he knew. She’d no other reason to do it. No reason to argue that Cersei be interned alongside her children, except for that Jaime would have wanted that. Without even a word from him, Brienne had known his heart. The night after he’d heard that argument, Jaime had broken down into gut wrenching sobs of gratitude. 

She would come. 

They’d argued endlessly. He could tell from the guards and the snippets of conversation he’d heard drifting from Sansa’s tent, that the northerners carried a deep and abiding respect for Brienne. But they hated Cersei more. Today, was the first day that all had been relatively quiet in the camp. 

She would come. 

Jaime glanced up from his thoughts when a column of sunshine spilled across the ground in front of him.

Sansa Stark stood in the open tent door. She had dark circles under her eyes and her complexion was a bit paler than usual, but she remained as regal as ever. A true Northern Queen. Catelyn Stark born again. 

But she wasn’t the woman Jaime had been expecting, the woman he longed to lay eyes on with every breath in his body. 

She stepped into the tent fully and closed the flap. She did not do him the courtesy of facing him as she bluntly announced, “Your sister’s body will be laid to rest in Kings Landing.”

“And her head?” Jaime snapped. 

Perhaps, it was the tension or the waiting or a million other things keeping his mind racing these last few days, that had his temper flaring brightly when logically he knew he should keep his mouth shut. But he was utterly exhausted and terrified and he needed to see Brienne. 

Sansa turned then and narrowed those Tully blue eyes at him in disgust. She had no love for him, not that she’d had much before, but at least she’d tolerated him. Now, she could barely stand the sight of him. Jaime couldn’t blame her. He hated himself even more than the entire host of northerners did, if that were possible. 

“You have much to thank Brienne for, Ser. The least of which is your sister’s head.”

Jaime sucked in a sharp breath. What else had she done on his behalf? What other parts of herself had she chipped away for the godsdamned Lannisters? 

Sansa took a step toward him, fisting her hands at her side and running her gaze over over his unkempt hair and disheveled clothes. Sizing him up and finding him wanting. It seemed he was destined to always be judged inadequate in the presence of a red-headed she wolf. She remained silent for a few moments and then cocked her head to the side and spoke solemnly. 

“She argued for your life. Many times over. And she won that argument on the condition that you honor your oaths.”

“Which are?” He questioned softly. He would promise anything. Everything. 

“You must relinquish your birthright-“

“Done.”

“I’ll also have your vow to never raise your sword to a Stark or our allies for as long as you live.”

“I swear it. I’ll swear anything you ask of me if-“

“You may never step foot in the North-“

“No.”

“Ser?”

“I won’t make that promise. If Brienne is to live in the North, so shall I.” Jaime was adamant on this point. They would not be separated again. Not ever. 

“You’re not in a position to negotiate, Ser Jaime.”

“Then have Brienne do it for me! She would never-“

“She didn’t object.”

Jaime couldn’t breathe. 

She’d promised. She’d promised she loved him. She’d promised she would never deny him her feelings or their child. She’d lied just as adeptly as Cersei ever had. Jaime wanted to cut off his other hand as soon as the thought had entered his head. Even on Brienne’s worst day, she could never reach the depths of deception that Cersei was willing to dive to. His Brienne wasn’t a liar. She never had been. 

“She didn’t have much of a choice,” Sansa said quietly. “My people want your head.”

“I fought the fucking Mountain for your people.” Jaime growled. His body was vibrating with the force of his anger, his mouth bone dry with fear. 

“They don’t see it that way.”

“How exactly do they see it, Lady Stark?” He spat her name with a sneer. 

For a fleeting moment he thought he should try a calmer approach to this conversation but fear was a living, breathing aurochs crushing his chest. He couldn’t lose Brienne. He wouldn’t. 

“Would you like to follow your sister, Ser?” Sansa gritted out. 

Jaime saw her hands clenching into the fabric of her dress. When he drug his gaze back to her face he was hit with the full force of that belligerent Stark fury. At least she had some color to her cheeks now. 

“I love Brienne dearly and I would do most anything for her. I defied my people. For her. Kept you alive when every man in this camp was calling for your head. For her. I’m not honoring your sister with a better resting place than she deserves for you, Ser. I’m doing it for Brienne. She would and has put her life in danger for mine countless times before. The least I could do would be to honor her wishes and listen to her advice. I would do that and more for her, but I couldn’t do this. I did everything in my power, but you can’t get all that you wish for, Ser Jaime. Not that you deserve any of it.” 

Not that you deserve her. 

Sansa’s eyes bore into him and her words smacked him across the face with the force of a physical blow. She hadn’t said it aloud but it was implied, dripping from every syllable that had crossed her lips. 

“You would have lost your head three days ago if not for her, but there’s only so much my people are willing to cede. They drew the line at allowing a Lannister safe passage in the North.”

“There will be a Lannister in the North. Or have you forgotten?” Jaime growled. His babe. His daughter. A little lion cub surrounded by wolves. 

“Brienne’s child will always be welcome in my home, and every northerner would tell you the same. She’s earned our loyalty, her child will have it also.”

“But not her child’s father?”

“No.” Sansa answered succinctly. Not an ounce of regret. 

“I fought the dead for you northerners. Put my life in danger to even come there in the first place-“

“And you betrayed us. Or have you forgotten?” Sansa questioned furiously, turning his own words against him. 

That was a blow. A well deserved one, Jaime acknowledged, but a crushing one all the same. He was starting to panic. He might not be able to talk his way out of this and if he couldn’t do that...

He may never see her again

“It wasn’t only Danerys’ men killed when you stood by your sister as she refused to surrender the city. Too many northmen have died at the hands of a Lannister for you to ever be welcome there again. You’re lucky you get to keep your life. Be grateful.”

Grateful? She wanted him to be fucking grateful? Grateful to lose Brienne? To lose his child? He could take the child if he wished it, but he would never do that. Not that Brienne or her merry band of fucking northmen would let him. It seemed he’d be meeting the Stranger before he ever made it to The Neck if he tried.

“Grateful? Should I be grateful to be exiled from ever seeing my daughter? Or her mother? You’re banishing me from my family. You’re refusing to give me a chance to make amends to the woman I love. I’ll never raise my sword to a northmen, I swear it. I’ll give up my birthright and live as a fucking turnip farmer if need be, I swear it. But I refuse to live apart from Brienne. You might as well summon Arya to slit my throat now. A life without my wife is not a life I want to live.”

“She is not your wife.” Sansa snarled. 

Her cheeks were gaining color by the second and her small fists were once again clutched in the folds of her skirts. Jaime knew he was in no position to argue, not if he wanted to keep living. But he couldn’t sit idly by and let Sansa Stark believe that he wouldn’t fight a thousand battles and more to be by Brienne’s side. 

“From the moment I stripped her naked and laid her in those northern furs she became my wife. We may not have said vows at your precious heart tree, but every time I took her lips or ran my tongue over her perfect breasts or tasted her glorious cunt, I was claiming her as mine.” 

His chest was heaving and sweat had broken out on his forehead. The memory so visceral he could feel Brienne’s soft skin beneath his fingertips, feel her whispering his name across his chest. 

“And yet, you abandoned her.” Sansa murmured softly, sadly, as if Brienne’s heartbreak belonged to her too. 

“I did. But she’ll come to me and she’ll forgive me.” Jaime stated with much more certainty than he felt. 

“She’ll forgive nothing!” She shouted. Her eyes reigniting with a blinding fury. 

“You don’t know her as well as you think!” He shot back. 

“And you do? Tell me, Ser, where is Brienne now? The battle is over. The negotiations are over. You’re here and where is your wife?”

“Sansa,” he growled. 

“Your Grace.”

“What?” 

“You will address me as Your Grace.” She spat, lifting her chin and attempting to sear his flesh with her enraged glare. 

Jaime’s anger immediately deflated. He was a fucking idiot. Sansa was his only link to Brienne at the moment and he was cocking it up with his damned temper. He took a calming breath, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the post. He nodded slowly. Whether to inform her that he agreed to her conditions or to acknowledge his monumental mistakes where Brienne was concerned, he didn’t know. Sansa remained silent. 

“May I speak to my brother?” He whispered, defeated. 

“He’s waiting outside the tent to see you. I’ll send him in.”

He still didn’t open his eyes when he heard the rustling of her dress as she turned to leave him. 

“Your Grace?”

He opened his eyes then so he could watch her face. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. Leveling him with a Catelyn Stark glare if he’d ever seen one. For a moment, he was back in that cage in Robb Stark’s camp the night he’d met Brienne. 

“Tell me she’s alright.” Jaime rasped. His heart seizing in his chest at her possible answer. 

Sansa’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly as she turned to him fully. 

“No, Ser Jaime. She’s not.”

She turned swiftly, pulling back the tent flap, and left him without another word. 

Jaime let his eyes fall closed once more. His heart beat a wild rhythm against his ribs. Fear like he’d never known twisted up from his gut to spread throughout his chest. He’d hurt her deeply and nothing he’d done in the throne room could change that. That’s what she’d told him wasn’t it? 

“Brother?”

Jaime jumped at Tyrion’s voice. He lifted his gaze to see his brother sitting on a stool before him. Alive. Immediately, Jaime’s eyes filled with tears. Tyrion jumped off the stool and threw himself into Jaime’s arms, enfolding him in a tight hug. He’d known that his brother had survived, Gendry had told him, but to actually see him and hold him. The fear that had been roaring in his chest died down to a smolder, if only for a little while. 

“How did you survive?” He whispered into Tyrion’s hair. 

His brother pulled away from him and cupped his cheek. His teary eyes lit with mischief as he replied in typical Tyrion fashion, “I’m so small, dear brother, they never even saw me.” 

Jaime laughed for the first time since he’d left the north. It was rough and raspy but it felt good. The ever present tension in his muscles unfurled infinitesimally. 

Tyrion regained his stool and gave Jaime a sad smile. 

“I assume Sansa told you her conditions.”

“She did.”

“And you agreed?” Tyrion tilted his head curiously. 

“I did.”

Tyrion nodded thoughtfully. What was there to say really? He had to agree to those ridiculous vows. At this point he’d rather choose death, but that would hurt Brienne. He was done hurting her. 

“Have- Have you seen her?” Jaime questioned quietly. 

“Who?”

“You know damn well who!” His damned temper was back to boiling just below the surface with one word. 

“Oh. You mean your Lady Knight? The woman you love? The mother of your child?”

“Yes.” Jaime answered, blowing out a frustrated sigh. 

“Yes, I’ve seen her.” Tyrion said idly, offering no more. 

“And how is she?”

“Pale, withdrawn. Never alone though.”

Thank the gods, Jaime thought. Podrick would be with her. She needed someone to be there for her when Jaime could not. 

“Well, of course Podrick would stick by her. He is her squire.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean Podrick.” Tyrion responded slyly, humor tinging his voice. 

No. Surely fucking not. 

“Clegane?”

“Clegane.”

Fucking Clegane. Jaime pulled against his chains. They bit into his neck, squeezing his windpipe. He wouldn’t need Arya Stark to take his head, he was doing a fine job of attempting it himself. 

“I’ll strike his head from his shoulders as I did with his brother.” Jaime raged.

“And how do you propose to do that in chains?”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to-“

“No. Not this time.”

Of course. He didn’t expect him to agree but it was worth a try. He slumped back against the post once more. 

“I have to see her Tyrion.” Jaime pleaded desperately. 

“As I recall, your lady made it clear that she would seek you out when she was willing to speak to you.”

“How do you- you’ve spoken to her?”

“I have.”

“And?”

Tyrion shook his head sadly and sighed. 

“She loves you, Jaime. She loves you so much it’s tearing her apart. She’s had to fight tooth and nail since she walked out of the throne room to keep your head attached to your body. All the while knowing that you’d betrayed her and abandoned her for another woman.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Yes.”

The tension was back in full force. He was stretched so bow tight, he felt his body would break with the slightest movement. 

“I don’t know how to do this Tyrion.”

“Do what?”

“I-“ He faltered. How could he possibly explain this to his brother. Tyrion had known of course but they’d never truly spoken in detail about his relationship with Cersei. But he had to speak of it and he had no one else to turn to. 

“When Cersei and I fought it was volatile but it always ended-“

“It’s alright, Jaime. I won’t run away screaming. Say what you need to say.” Although his brother wore a smirk on his lips, his eyes were serious and sympathetic. 

“It always ended- pleasurably beneficial to us both. Once we, uh, returned to our wits, we’d either forgotten entirely what the argument had been about, or I had agreed to whatever she wanted.”

It had taken Jaime years to realize that he’d never truly communicated with the woman he’d irrevocably been tied to. They fought and they fucked. They made grandiose pledges of undying love and they fucked. She celebrated her destruction of their enemies and they fucked. They fucked and they fucked. It had hardly ever gone deeper than that. 

“With Brienne...I hurt her, Tyrion, in a way that I never could have hurt Cersei.”

“What does that mean?”

“You can’t hurt someone who holds you at arms length. You can’t hurt someone who’s unwilling to let you hurt them. With Brienne...”

“She pulled you close. She was willing to let you hurt her.” Tyrion stated quietly. Not a question. He knew. 

“Yes,” Jaime swallowed hard and blinked. He could feel tears burning at the backs of his eyes but he refused to let them fall. “And I destroyed her when I left. I knew what it would do to her and I did it anyway. No amount of fucking could fix that.”

“No. It can’t.”

Jaime jerked his head to the doorway at the sound of her voice. The sun was at her back casting her in a warm, ethereal glow. The warrior mother. She had come. 

She stepped into the tent and closed the flap without a word. Upon closer inspection, he could see her cheeks were pale and sunken in, and her hair hung limply against her forehead. She moved slowly toward him and he caught sight of the angry red line where The Mountain had busted her cheek open and Tarly had sewed it back together. He needed to see her eyes, but she hadnt glanced his way since she’d entered the tent, keeping her eyes firmly fixed upon Tyrion. 

When she was less than five feet away, she nodded her head to Tyrion in greeting. 

“Lord Tyrion.”

“Ser Brienne.”

Jaime’s hand curled into a tight fist; his fingernails digging into his soft palm and drawing blood, but he remained silent. He would wait for her to speak. Or scream or cry or curse his name. Whatever she needed. 

Finally, she turned her head to look at him. 

The depths of anguish in her magnificent eyes had Jaime’s stomach clenching so hard he was afraid he’d retch all over her boots.

She was devastated and in agony and confused to no end. He could see it all in that solitary look. He’d done that to her. He’d done all this to her. 

Every fucking selfish thought he’d had over the past few days came rushing to him now. How could he have thought to win her back? How could he have thought to earn her forgiveness? One look at her eyes and he knew. She may be willing to forgive, and knowing Brienne’s heart as he did, she very likely would. But he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, and her next words cemented that belief. 

“Ser Jaime.” She greeted him. 

Jaime’s heart contracted painfully.

Ser Jaime 

Not Jaime, not Kingslayer, not ‘you worthless piece of shit’, but Ser Jaime. There was no love from her in that name now. No hate either. There was nothing. He’d left her with nothing. 

He felt a tear rolling down his cheek; he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. She’d finally come. 

And Jaime wished she hadn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime talk. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This soul crushing chapter is dedicated to my girl, Jameka. Enjoy!

She’d just spent three days straight, arguing with northmen who were more stubborn than Jaime Lannister could ever hope to be. She was absolutely exhausted and utterly devastated, but she’d come to see him anyway. 

She’d promised she would. 

After her initial greeting, Jaime had turned his head away from her and hadn’t looked back since. Although, he’d tried to hide it, she’d seen the tear making its way down his cheek. And it broke her heart. She knew he’d noticed when she’d called him Ser Jaime, but she just couldn’t bring herself to call him Jaime in this moment. She needed distance if they were going to have this conversation. 

Tyrion caught her eye and gestured to a stool behind him but Brienne couldn’t sit. If the need arose for her to make a hasty retreat, she’d rather be standing. Jaime’s words came to her unbidden then.

Have you ever run away from a fight?

She never had. But this wasn’t a fight she had the smallest hope of winning. You can’t win when you’ve already lost. So she remained standing, awkwardly in the middle of the room, frozen in fear. 

She didn’t have a clue what to say to him. She- she had so many emotions roiling through her she couldn’t even identify them all. She loved him. To the marrow of her bones, she loved him, but she couldn’t trust him. Not at all. How do you love a man you can’t trust? She didn’t know. It had been so long since she hadn’t trusted Jaime. From the moment he’d made his confession at Harrenhal, trust had never been an issue again. She trusted his word. Unequivocally. But now- now she didn’t know what to do. Even though, there was no longer a Cersei for him to run back to, how could she know that he still wouldn’t run someday. 

She was brought back from her thoughts by Tyrion clearing his throat. He gave her an encouraging look and nodded to Jaime. 

She had to talk to him. Even if she didn’t know what to say, even if her heart was in her throat, even if this conversation would burn her world to the ground. She had to do it. 

She’d promised. 

“Could I speak to your brother alone, Lord Tyrion?” She murmured quietly, never taking her eyes off Jaime. He clenched his jaw and his shoulders drew up to his ears at the sound of her voice. 

“Of course, of course.” 

Tyrion hopped up from his stool and walked over to Jaime, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder. Jaime never even glanced at his brother, never looked away from the tent wall. 

When Tyrion had finally made it out the door and closed the flap behind him, the silence became unbearable. Every regret Jaime had hung in the air around him. She could feel it. Suffocating him. Suffocating her. She still wasn’t sure how to begin this conversation. She hadn’t even let herself think of it until now. Brienne had kept her mind occupied incessantly these last few days with fighting for him, fighting for his sister, and worrying about the babe in her belly. 

Samwell had confirmed that she was with child the day of the battle in the throne room. But this wasn’t the joyous occasion she’d always dreamed it would be, when she’d even let herself entertain that impossible dream at all. She’d allowed herself, if only for a moment, to imagine that Jaime had never left Winterfell. How would she have told him? Would he have been excited? To finally have a child he could claim as his own, love as his own. She had let herself smile at that, but her smile fell as soon as it had lifted when she remembered that Jaime had already thought that he’d had a child to love and claim as his own. And that child wasn’t Brienne’s. 

“Brienne.”

She jerked her gaze to him and their eyes locked. He looked so much like the Jaime she’d met all those years ago. With his dirty unkempt hair, the chain secured around his throat, and the dried crusted blood smeared across his face; she was half expecting him to ask her if she was a woman. Or call her a beast. They’d come full circle now. But where his eyes had been taunting and defiant that night, they were wary and ravaged now. This was hurting him as much as it was her. And even after everything that he’d done, Brienne couldn’t stand to see him hurt. 

She wanted to hold him. To wrap him in her arms and tell him that it would all be alright. Whatever may come, they’d weather it together. But would he offer her the same comfort? Could she even allow herself to be comforted by him any longer? Could she allow herself to be loved? To even believe that he’d loved her at all?

In the darkest hours of the night, when she was all alone, Brienne would lie awake and list all the reasons that Jaime couldn’t possibly love her. Reasons 1 through 1,000: she wasn’t Cersei. As unnatural as it had been, he’d loved Cersei with everything in him. All the broken pieces came together for her, where they couldn’t for Brienne. Cersei had known that. She’d always known that. 

“Did you know that your sister knew that I loved you?” Brienne said quietly. Her voice sounded rusty, her throat raw as if she’d been sobbing for hours. 

His brow furrowed and his eyes widened as he murmured softly, “How could you know that? I imagine she knew we had feelings for each other at the dragonpit, but-“

“No. She knew.” Brienne took a calming breath. She’d never told him this, never told anyone this. “She asked me if I loved you at Joffrey’s wedding.” 

“What?” He snapped, his tone hard and unyielding. He was angry. At his sister or at her, she wasn’t sure, but she supposed anger was better than desolation. 

“And I did. I did love you then. With no hopes of you ever loving me back.” Her voice broke. She knew he could hear the tears because she could hear them herself, feel them, tightening her throat in a crushing hold. 

“Brienne...” He whispered brokenly. 

“Just let me speak, please.”

She had to get this out, had to cleanse herself of it. She’d lay every ill-advised feeling she’d had in her heart at his feet. She couldn’t begin to move past this until he knew. 

She reached over to unlock his chains and then stepped back to pull the stool to her and sit. She wouldn’t run. 

He rubbed his neck and stood gracefully, stretching his long arms to the ceiling. “You’re not afraid I’ll run? Try to escape?”

“Yes.” 

Jaime’s head jerked back as if he’d been slapped. He hadn’t expected that. She supposed he thought she’d tell him she trusted him. She couldn’t do that. Him running away had haunted her every dream since the night he’d done it. 

“I won’t.” He said quietly. 

She couldn’t believe him but she nodded anyways and watched as the tension leeched from his shoulders. She gestured to the other stool but Jaime remained standing. He took a tentative step towards her and she panicked. Grabbing the stool, she dug her boots into the earth, and scooted several feet away from him. She couldn’t say what she needed to say if he touched her. She would crumble to pieces if he touched her. 

After a second of confused shock, he stepped back to lean against the post, folding his arms tightly across his chest and nodding his readiness for her to speak. 

Gods, give her strength. 

“When you came North I- the tiniest, most ridiculous, most fragile part of me had hoped you’d done it for me. Not as your friend, or your oath keeper, but...as a woman you cared for. After your trial, I never let myself think it again. It was an impossible dream and I’ve never been a woman to get her hopes up.” She swallowed hard and averted her eyes. She couldn’t look at him while she revealed the deepest parts of her, the most tender parts of her. 

“But after the feast, after you’d decided to stay at Winterfell, that tiny little spark came back and it grew into a roaring flame. I couldn’t douse it. No matter how many times I tried, and I did try mightily. But the longer you stayed, the more it blazed, consuming every logical piece of me. Terrifying but...the most spectacular dream I’d never allowed myself to have. Except, you weren’t a dream. You were real. A flesh and bone man who kissed me like he needed me, touched me like he worshipped me.”

Tears were burning at the backs of her eyes, her throat so tight she feared she’d choke. She heard the rustle of fabric as he took a step toward her, but she held up a hand to halt him. He still couldn’t touch her and she still couldn’t look at him.

She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears before she quietly continued. “When you left me to return to your sister- it- it hurt me, Jaime. More than any man has ever hurt me. But what hurt the most, was the fact that you knew you’d most likely die and you left anyway, uncaring of what that would do to me. You had no regard for my feelings, or your own life. None. Although, you’d never said a word, I had let myself become so immersed in this dream that I’d convinced myself that you loved me. Even if it was just a tiny sliver of your heart that belonged to me and me alone. But a man who loves a woman doesn’t-” 

The tears were streaking down her cheeks now, vicious, ugly sobs that clogged her throat and heated her face. She couldn't hold them back if she tried. She had to get this out before she broke completely. It was a near thing. 

"I loved you, you had to know I loved you, and still you left. And I know your reasons for that now, Jaime, I understand but I..." She took a shuddering breath and tried to control herself. She straightened her shoulders and finally lifted her gaze to him."I'll always trust you in battle, and I trust you to keep your oaths to the north, but I can't trust you with my heart again. Please don't ask it of me. I can’t. I just can’t.”

He took a step closer, lifting his arm as if he would touch her, his eyes shining with unshed tears, “Please, Brienne. Please, just let me-“

And then he was on his knees before her. Grasping her legs as if his life depended on it and sobbing into her lap. 

I’m sorry rolled off his lips like a prayer. Over and over and over again. 

“I don’t deserve you. I never deserved you and you bloody well know it! You knew it from the moment we met, from the moment I confessed my sins to you at Harrenhal, from the moment I left you there with Locke-“

“You came back for m-“

“It doesn’t matter!” He roared. “I left. I left you there knowing what could happen. Just like I left you at Winterfell knowing...” He sucked in a gasping breath.”Knowing-“

“Knowing you wouldn’t come back this time.” She said quietly. 

He shook his head frantically, his face still buried in her lap. “Knowing I couldn’t come back. Even if I’d wished it, and I desperately did. Every minute I’ve been in this godsforsaken city, I’ve wished for home.”

“For Casterly Rock?”

He looked up at her then, tears clinging to those long golden lashes, and whispered,”For you, Brienne. The only home I’ve ever known. The only real, safe haven I’ve ever had. You.” 

Jaime looked gutted as she clutched his shoulders and pushed him away from her. She slid off her stool and knelt in front of him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and whispered raggedly against his temple, “You were my home too.”

She felt his chest shake with his renewed sobs and pulled him closer. His hand was fisted so tightly in her tunic she was afraid he’d rip the fabric in two. 

“You don’t get to decide if you deserve me. Only I can decide that.”

He pulled back from her and ran his wide eyed gaze over her face warily. He wouldn’t receive absolution this day. She couldn’t give him that yet, didn’t know if she ever could, but she could offer him some relief from the battles he raged against himself. 

“You’re worthy of love, Jaime. Honest love. You’ve always been worthy. You’ve just never had someone show you that, no one has ever cared enough to show you, but I cared. I care.” 

She watched as his shoulders slumped and the rush of tears came back to his eyes. She couldn’t completely forget her own pain, but she couldn’t help herself but to comfort him in the face of his own.

“I never told you I loved you and I regret that deeply, but I tried very hard to show you what I was too terrified to voice. I would have never let you into my room that night if I didn’t love you.”

“I would have never came if I didn’t love you.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think-“

“What? You think I don’t love you?” Jaime asked brokenly.

She remained silent. 

“You think no one can love you?”

"No. I just don’t think you could. I know I can be loved, just not- not by you. Not then.” She whispered softly. “Podrick loves me. Sansa and Arya, too, and even Sandor in his own way."

"Clegane loves you?" Jaime gritted out, his cheeks flushing in anger. 

“We’ve become close. He’s like the big brother I still wished I had. He’s been my comfort and constant companion these last few months.  
He was ready to run your sister through on my behalf. Solely because she called me ugly. I’d call that love from him.” She growled. He had no right to be jealous. 

His anger deflated at her words as he hunched his shoulders and drew in on himself. She hadn’t meant to slap him in the face with his perceived inadequacies, but she wouldn’t lie about her relationship with Sandor. They were close and she loved him as he loved her. In their own way. 

“I loved you. I love you. Tell me you know that.” Jaime pleaded, his voice so soft Brienne barely heard him. 

She released a sad sigh and cupped his chin, lifting it so their eyes could meet.

“As long as your sister had even a piece of your heart, there was never any room for me.” She murmured. 

He jerked his chin out of her hand and his shoulders went ramrod straight, tension coiling in every line of his body. 

“You think I thought of her? Every minute I was with you?” He snarled. “While I laughed with you and sparred with you and stayed up until the dawn talking with you? Do you think I was thinking of her while I was sharing your bed every night? While I was fucking you?” He spat. 

Brienne flinched. She had tried not to think it at the time but after he had left, every memory she had of that blissful month was haunted with the specter of Cersei.

She could see him watching her intently out of the corner of her eye. When she didn’t answer he clenched his jaw and cupped her cheek, turning her face fully towards him. 

“You do, don’t you?”

“I didn’t at the time, no, but after...” She trailed off. She couldn’t give voice to that pain. Not to him. Not to anyone. 

He grasped her by the back of the neck and pulled her even closer to him. So close she could feel his angry pants of breath against her lips. He was livid. He had no right to be. He couldn’t understand because he would never doubt her love. She wasn’t the one who had left. 

“You think I thought of her when my tongue was between your thighs? When your nipple was between my teeth and your hands were gripping my hair? When your legs were wrapped around me and I was so lost in you I prayed to every god there was to let me stay there forever? You think I thought of her when we laid those furs in front of the fire and you rode me? With your blush rising from your breasts to your cheeks and your nails digging into my chest? With your thighs gripping me like your favorite stallion, and your cunt squeezing me like you’d never let go? Tell me, Brienne, whose name did I scream loud enough to wake the castle?”

She couldn’t breathe. She’d forgotten how. Every memory of their month together raced through her mind all at once. The sweat, the furs, his hand gripping her hip, his powerful thighs sliding against hers, and the sweet sting of his teeth clamping onto her shoulder as he reached his release. 

“Mine.” She whispered. 

“Yours.”

He released her neck and sat back on his feet. They were silent for so long, Brienne was afraid they’d never speak again, but then he murmured softly, “The only moment I truly let myself think of Cersei from the second we sat down at the feast together to the day I left was when Sansa received that raven.” 

“You didn’t think of your child?”

“I honestly wasn’t sure if there was one. I know that sounds terrible but I- I just wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to leave you, Brienne. But when Sansa received the raven...every foolish fucking thing I’d ever done in my miserable life came rushing back. I couldn’t taint you with that, and I couldn’t let them die if I could save them.” 

He was looking at her with eyes so full of self-recrimination, begging her to understand. 

She nodded. She knew he’d had to try and save them, but she hadn’t known then. He’d never told her. He hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her? Or her hadn’t loved her enough to tell her? It hurt the same. 

A wave of exhaustion suddenly rolled over her whole body. She needed to leave him now. She needed her family. They’d all be eating in Sansa’s tent about now. Brienne just wanted to be there to soak it all in. Sandor’s reluctant one word answers at Pod’s every question, Gendry’s love struck gaze searching out Arya, and...Sansa. Sansa would sit with her, offering comfort in her understanding silence. 

“Sansa gave me a choice.” She murmured. 

“What?”

“She said she’d release me from her service if I wanted to remain with you.”

“You chose to stay in the North,” he swallowed hard, clenching his jaw and nodding. “What I did was unforgivable Brienne-“

“I accepted her offer.”

“You- before you’d even spoken to me?”

“No matter my- no matter what happened between us, I would never, ever, keep you from your child. I made a promise to you. I intend to keep it.”

“Thank you. I don’t deserve you-“

She blew out a frustrated growl and grabbed him by his shoulders to shake some sense into him. But he looked so beaten down she just didn’t have it in her to shout at him as she’d wanted. 

Moving her hands to cup his face, she ran her thumbs soothingly over his cheekbones as she spoke softly. “Try, Jaime. You keep saying you don’t deserve me, but have you ever thought to try?”

He shifted his legs from underneath him and her hands fell away as he sat down hard on the dirt, looking stunned. She’d told him he was worthy but he’d obviously not believed her. She would have to make him believe her but she couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even willing to try- if he’d already deemed himself defeated. She wouldn’t accept excuses anymore, and she would never let him give those same excuses to her child. 

She would have to try too. She wasn’t sure if she could ever allow herself to trust him fully anymore, but she couldn’t demand of him what she wouldn’t attempt herself. 

She leaned forward and softly kissed his scruffy cheek before standing up to leave, and just like after the battle, he grabbed her wrist to stop her. When Brienne glanced down his eyes were once again filled with fear but there was a determination glinting there too. 

“I love you,” he whispered earnestly and then looked to her abdomen, placing his golden hand there. “And I love her.” 

He looked back to Brienne with shining eyes, and pulled her hand down to rest over his heart as he vowed, “I’ll never run again. I swear it, Brienne. Never again.”

She ran her thumb in a soothing circle over his pounding heart and nodded. That would have to do for now.


End file.
